


All Too Human

by Beregond5



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Depressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beregond5/pseuds/Beregond5
Summary: It's been almost a month since Leandra died, but Hawke's grief is still too near.





	

The young boy dusted himself clean and stood up, though he wasn’t sure how he had got dirty in the first place. Was he playing with the dirt? Had he fallen?

No, he remembered now. Feeling pride swelling within, he quickly hurried back home to tell his mother the news.

‘Mama! Mama!’

And there was his mother, holding a basket with clothes that she had just gathered from the clothes-line.

‘What’s the matter, Garrett?’ she asked, smiling at him. 

‘Some mean boys picked on Bethany and I told them to leave her alone, and when they didn’t, I used a biiiig fireball to scare them off!’ the boy announced. 

‘You did? Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful!’ the woman said, and she reached down to ruffle her son’s hair. ‘Bethany is lucky to have such a strong, protective brother.’

Garrett grinned broadly. He loved it when he made his mama happy.

‘But she still died.’

Chill coursed through the little boy’s heart and he looked up at his mama. But all he could do was stare in horror as she rapidly changed - all colour from her lips and cheeks was gone, her skin turned grey, and her eyes became sunken and milky.

‘You couldn’t protect me, either.’

Her hand, so tender before, tightened into a fist on his hair and the boy screamed at the pain coursing through him.

\----------------------

Hawke snapped his eyes open, unsure where he was at first; he only registered that he was lying down, his heart pounding rapidly against his chest. Finally, as his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, he recognised his room. His room in Kirkwall. He wasn’t a little boy. He was a full-grown man, who had just woken up from a dream. Or a nightmare, more like. And though both the images and terror he had felt were swiftly fading from thought and memory, the guilt that had caused them in the first place remained.

Maker... it had been almost a month since his mother was murdered. And yet the grief was still all too near. 

Tears sprang up in his eyes and he instinctively tightened his jaw, refusing to cry. What good would it do? She would still be dead, Bethany would still be dead, Carver would still blame him and he’d still be here in this large and yet so empty house, trying to pick up the pieces of a life that just kept falling apart, a single question echoing in his mind: what was he doing wrong? 

He sat up, pushing the sheet away from him as it felt too stifling. The rustling sound was enough to arouse Dog, who lifted his head from his comfortable spot in the corner and regarded his master curiously.

‘Stay,’ Hawke all but breathed out, and he headed outside. Sandal, Bodahn and Orana had already retired for the night, so there was no one in the hall; just the small embers of a fire that was slowly dying in the fireplace. Even so, Hawke went down the stairs and settled cross-legged on a small rug, seeking their warmth and light, meagre as they were. Besides, he did have his ways. A gentle wave of his hand and the flames reignited at his command, burning with new vigour.

It was funny, Hawke supposed. He had all this power in his fingertips and yet he was still powerless when it came to protecting his family. What was the point of having magic when it couldn’t fix what really mattered? 

He shook his head immediately. He couldn’t afford to think like that. That was probably what had driven Quentin insane after the death of his wife: his denial to accept that one couldn’t bring a person back to life, that it wasn’t possible. Or was it perhaps his hope that, as a mage, he could figure out a solution? Hawke wasn’t sure and, truth be told, it hardly mattered anymore. All he could be sure of was that he shouldn’t go down that path - even if the temptation was there. Though accepting his mistakes and striving to do better next time seemed impossible and meaningless in his grief, deep down, he knew it was also the right thing to do. And the right thing to do was precisely what both his mother and Bethany would expect him to do. Hell, to be fair, even Carver would expect him to do the right thing.

He still missed them though...

Soft footsteps reached his ears and he looked over his shoulder. There was something about seeing Anders so sleep tousled, blond bangs falling down messily over his half-closed eyes and the quilt draped over his shoulders as an impromptu cloak that made Hawke smile inwardly, especially as the sleepy mage made a clumsy beeline for his lover, seeking him out like a beacon. And when the healer sat down next to Hawke, snuggling closer, he was the embodiment of adorable. 

‘Missed me?’ Hawke asked, nudging him gently, yet playfully.

‘Mm.’ Anders placed an arm across his lover’s shoulders, offering part of the quilt so they would share its warmth.

‘Thank you,’ Hawke answered, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips, and he kissed his lover’s brow.

‘You’re welcome, love,’ Anders replied, his voice barely a murmur, and he rested his head on Hawke’s shoulder. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Hawke sighed quietly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to, but, then again, Anders was his lover. If he didn’t trust him, who was he supposed to trust?

‘Bad dream. It got me thinking about Mother.’

Anders nodded gently in understanding. ‘You can’t blame yourself for what happened.’

‘Can’t I?’ Hawke replied. ‘Looking back, I see that the signs were all there and I just wouldn’t see them. Sir Emeric’s findings, Gascard’s story not holding up, the women’s clothes, the correspondence, that secret basement that I would have discovered if I had just looked harder…’

Anders took Hawke’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. ‘Only in hindsight,’ he pointed out. ‘Varric and I were there too, love. We saw what happened. You did everything right.’

‘She still died. And all I could do was watch her slip away,’ Hawke murmured. 

‘You still saved her from a fate worse than death.’ 

‘It doesn’t feel enough.’

‘It is. You may not believe it at the moment, but, trust me, it is,’ Anders replied quietly.

Hawke winced, realising that, yes, Anders knew exactly what he was talking about; the healer had had to watch someone just as important to him die before his eyes – mercy-killed by his own hand, in fact. Hawke wrapped his arm around his lover’s waist, offering a comforting embrace. 

‘It’s all right. I had enough time to come to terms with it,’ Anders said, nuzzling the crook of Hawke’s neck in reassurance. ‘That’s what you need too, love, time to accept that you’re only too human. That you can only act on a pure heart, even if you can’t predict the outcome of your actions.’

Hawke couldn’t help but snort weakly as he recognised his words. 

‘They’re good words. Heed them,’ Anders said, prodding him gently to look at him. ‘You carry a heavy burden already, love. Don’t carry the weight of the dead.’

‘What am I supposed to do? Just let go?’ Hawke whispered.

‘Of course not. You mourn them and then, when you’re ready, you move on,’ Anders said softly. ‘And, more importantly, you don’t hold back.’

Hawke instantly tensed. What was Anders implying? 

‘I’ve been watching you,’ the healer said. ‘I’ve seen the way you clench your jaw, the way you blink back the tears, the way you keep distracting yourself, denying what your body and mind need to do. It’s not healthy, love.’

Hawke instantly bit the inside of his cheek, a lump forming in his throat. ‘You don’t want to see me like that, Anders.’

‘You’ve seen _me_ like that,’ Anders pointed out.

‘Except I make a terrible crier,’ Hawke said almost desperately as the final barriers of self-control were torn down. ‘There will be snot, tears, eyes all red and puffy, face all scrunched up into this ugly grimace... It’s not pretty. At all.’

The healer just cocked his head, raising an eyebrow subtly as if silently asking Hawke whether he really believed that he cared about things like that. It was what undid Hawke. The tears sprang back up in his eyes and, even though he tried to blink them back, more just came up and there was no stopping them. And as sobs wracked his body and filled the air, all he could do was bury himself in his lover’s arms, seeking the comforting embrace as grief overtook him. 

He didn’t see Anders' eyes swimming in tears in sympathy, even though a part of him was aware of it. _Both_ of them were all too human, after all.

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Some thoughts I had considering that part of the game, written in story form. I apologise for the depressing theme.


End file.
